


A Fantastic Assignment

by monsterleadmehome



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them tie ins, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Jealous Draco Malfoy, Jealousy, MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, New York City, Other Magical Creatures, Please just imagine Eddie Redmayne for Rolf Scamander, Post-War, Selkies, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-01 04:12:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17237186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterleadmehome/pseuds/monsterleadmehome
Summary: Fresh off a win from the passing of Dobby's Law, Hermione Granger is given a new assignment for her job in the Department for the Regulation and Care of Magical Creatures: track down a missing selkie that has been kidnapped from the care of Rolf Scamander. When reports of the selkie being taken to New York City show up, the ministry assigns an Auror to accompany her to the US: Draco Malfoy. Can the two of them work together in order to capture the thief and bring the selkie safely back to Britain?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamsdescent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsdescent/gifts).



> Happy Secret Bantha, my friend! This is the product of our new Dramione obsession plus my harebrained idea to somehow try and work Newt Scamander into it. Hope you enjoy! Not sure how many chapters there will be yet, but it will probably be at least three.
> 
> Thanks to TazWren for beta-ing this for me!

The halls of the ministry were literally teeming with life. Witches, wizards, house elves, and other magical beings crowded around to try and catch a glimpse of the proceedings, but the court was already emptying out. Hermione Granger could barely contain the grin that overtook her face. After over two years of working so hard on her house elves bill, or ‘Dobby’s Law’ as it was known around the ministry, it had finally passed. All house elves were officially free and must be paid fair wages for their services. There were other provisions, of course, but these were the most important. She felt a weight roll off her shoulders knowing that the blood, sweat, and tears she had poured into the last few years had not been in vain. With any luck, in another year or so, she might even be able to move out of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

As she dodged the couple reporters gathered around to ask questions, she spotted Harry out of the corner of her eye. “Harry!”

“Hermione, congratulations!” He swooped her into a fierce hug. “I knew they’d pass it.”

“Thank you. I  _ was _ confident, but couldn't help being nervous.”

“Nah, I knew you’d be brilliant.”

She smiled at her best friend as he hooked his arm through hers and led her down the corridor, away from the melee behind them. “Anything exciting going on in the Auror department?”

“Besides rounding up the last of the rogue Death Eaters? Not really. Want to grab some lunch?”

“That sounds lovely.”

As they walked, they nearly ran right into Draco Malfoy. He stopped at the same time they did, narrowly missing Hermione’s shoulder. His eyes ran over her appraisingly over her before he muttered, “I hear congratulations are in order, Granger.”

Taken aback by his addressing her, she quipped, “News travels fast, does it?”

He merely smirked and continued on.

Once he was out of earshot, Hermione looked at Harry. “How do you stand working with him?”

Harry shrugged. “Malfoy’s not so bad, actually. Keeps to himself most of the time. Hell of an Auror, though. He’s been responsible for bringing in most of the Death Eaters we’ve put away.”

Hermione seemed surprised. “Really?”

“Really. Earned himself a bit of a reputation around the office.”

“Well, it’s not like he had a choice.” Malfoy had been given probation after the war, a set of restrictions he had to follow lest he fancy a stint in Azkaban. One of those was that he owed a minimum of five years in ministry employment. They had chosen him to help hunt down his former associates as a sort of penance, she supposed. Four years in and he was still going strong.

“Yeah, but he didn’t have to be  _ good _ at it,” Harry offered.

The subject was dropped as they had a leisurely lunch, catching up on each other’s lives. Harry and Ginny were expecting their first baby, so her friend had lots of news to share. When he finally wound down from all the baby talk, she saw an opening to ask the dreaded question. “How’s Ron?”

It had been two years since Ron decided ministry work just wasn’t for him and left to help George with the shop. And over a year had passed since they had called it quits on their relationship. “He’s good. Happy. Seeing someone.”

“Oh? That’s good. Good for him.”

Harry smiled awkwardly as he sipped his drink. “How about you? Any prospects?”

“Me? No. I’ve been so busy getting this bill passed, I haven’t even thought about dating.”

He nodded. “I’m sure you’ll meet someone eventually.”

Hermione smiled. She really hadn’t been thinking about it much. Her flat was the perfect size for her and Crookshanks, and even though he was getting older, he still had a few good years left in him. She supposed she might get lonely once he passed, but she was perfectly fine being on her own. She spent her Friday nights curled up with a good book in her comfy chair—and that suited her just fine.

 

* * *

 

There were a stack of new cases waiting on Hermione’s desk when she got in on Monday. Apparently, there was never a shortage of work when it came to magical beings. However, seeing as she was currently the department’s golden girl, she would get her pick of the interesting stuff first. She made herself a cup of tea and started to shuffle through the files. She had just stacked them in piles relative to their level of interest when a knock at her door made her jump slightly. Visitors were a bit of a rare occurrence.

“Hermione, congratulations on ‘Dobby’s Law.’ Mind if I come in?”

“Rolf! Thank you. Of course, come in!”

Rolf Scamander came in and sat himself down in the seat opposite Hermione’s desk. Following in his grandfather Newt’s footsteps, Rolf was a magizoologist and often consulted on cases for the DRCMC. His leg twitched nervously and he straightened his lanky form in the chair so he wasn’t hunched over. Hermione had seen some pictures of Newt in his youth and felt confident saying that Rolf was nearly a carbon copy of the famous Hufflepuff.

“So how can I help you, Rolf? We didn’t have a meeting scheduled for anytime soon, did we?”

“No. No, we didn’t. I’m afraid I come asking for your assistance, Hermione. You see, I had the good fortune of rehabilitating a selkie recently, and I found out during the process that she was pregnant.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Hermione exclaimed.

Rolf’s watery blue eyes looked up at her, a slight smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “It was. But then, the child was born and while we were doing our best to care for it, Luna and I, last night he was stolen! The mother is inconsolable. Luna is watching after her now, but we have no idea who took the selkie child or why, or where they could be.” He started to sniff and pulled a tissue from his pocket to blow his nose.

“Who would do such a thing?” Hermione was indignant. Rolf and Luna did such important work for magical creatures; she couldn’t imagine the kind of person who would kidnap a baby selkie right out from under them.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’ve come to you. I was hoping you’d be able to help track him down.”

Her mouth opened, then closed. “Certainly. I will have to talk to my boss, but we should be able to make this a top priority.”

“Thank you, thank you so much. I’d really appreciate anything you can do.”

 

* * *

 

Hermione had only seen Luna Lovegood once since the end of the war. It was normally Rolf that she dealt with, although both of them were in the same field of study. She had always liked Luna, and Harry had been close with her, but something about the woman had always been a little off-putting to Hermione. Now, however, the petite blonde came at her with arms wide open. She was wearing lilac robes and her long hair was done back in a braid. “Hermione, thank you so much for coming,” she said enveloped her in a hug.

“Of course. It’s good to see you, Luna, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Us, too. Rolf has been quite distraught. As has the selkie mother. I had to administer a sedative so she could get some rest.” She batted the air near Hermione’s ear. “Sorry, wrackspurts.”

Hermione noticed Rolf roll his eyes at his partner’s antics as they walked the grounds.  _ He must really love Luna _ , she surmised.

Rolf brought them to the edge of a vast lake. “This is the facility where we had been keeping them. This whole estate was my grandfather’s, but after he turned one hundred he entrusted its care to me.”

The stone construction was built so that it had a large deck jutting out over the water and there was even more to the structure underneath the surface. It seemed someone had paid a lot of attention to detail when building this place, as it was suited perfectly for the care of magical creatures.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak selkie—but does the mother remember anything about the assailant?”

Rolf frowned and shook his head. “She remembers it was a man, but he charmed her so fast she didn’t have a chance to get a good look, unfortunately.”

“I see,” Hermione said as she looked around. There were a couple of items that had been knocked over in the area immediately adjacent to the water, but nothing else looked amiss. Whoever had been here, had slipped in and out. They must have planned to take the selkie as quickly as possible. “Rolf, who knew that you had obtained the selkie?”

“I’ve been trying to wrack my brain to think of that very thing. I’m not a secretive person, you know. Someone could’ve heard me discussing it in Diagon Alley, for all I know. I never would have imagined someone would trespass to kidnap a selkie from right under our noses.”

“Right. Well, if you hear anything else or remember anything, please let me know. I’m going to do some research of my own, put some feelers out to see what I can find.”

“Thank you, Hermione.”

When she got home that evening, Hermione gave Crookshanks a quick pat on the head before diving right into her research. She didn’t want to wait until she got back to the office. She tried all her texts, but she couldn’t find anything describing what kind of value a selkie might have on the black market. They didn’t have magical tears or venom, their voices didn’t carry any powers, and none of their organic matter had any healing properties. It just didn’t make sense. 

 

* * *

 

Much to Hermione’s dismay, several days passed with no word from Rolf or Luna. She was beginning to think the poor selkie was gone forever. She was sipping her tea, going through case files, when her office door creaked open. Her boss, Cybele Jones, walked in and handed her a new file. “Whatever else you were working on, Miss Granger, this takes top priority.”

“Of course,” she answered, taking the file from her boss. When she flipped it open she saw a picture of a man she never thought she’d see again; he was flashing a shady grin for the camera that would harden into a scowl before starting over.

“Mundungus Fletcher. I believe you’re familiar?” Cybele sat in the seat opposite Hermione’s desk, crossing her long legs in front of her. Her creamy beige robes accentuated her bronze skin and her gold bangles clacked against the wood of the chair.

“Yes. I thought he’d gone underground after the war.” Hermione flipped through the file, thick with proof that the wizard had not just faded silently into the background after the events several years ago.

“Well, in a sense, he did. Back to his less honest dealings, anyway. I understand you had been working with Rolf Scamander regarding a kidnapped selkie?”

“Yes! Do you think Fletcher had something to do with it?”

“He was spotted using an international portkey with a fair bit of cargo, yesterday. A witness said it looked like he had some kind of tank in his possession. We think this could possibly be for transporting the selkie.”

“International? Where was he headed?”

“Based on the portkey used, New York City.”

Hermione nearly dropped her tea. Why would Mundungus Fletcher be transporting a baby selkie to the United States? “But… why?”

“That’s what we want you to find out. As you know, selkies are not particularly valuable on the black market, but things could be different across the pond. The American wizarding world is quite a different landscape, and things could get dangerous. That’s why an Auror is being assigned to go with you.”

_ An Auror? Was that really necessary? _ “Oh, okay. Do you know which one?”

“Not yet. I understand they’re looking at who’s available at the moment. You should know by end of day, and then you’ll depart tomorrow. We need to figure out why a British wizard would be smuggling magical creatures into the US.”

“Understood.”

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, Hermione never received a memo that day. She went home to pack anxiously wondering who they’d assign to her case. Selfishly, she hoped for Harry; but he was quite in demand these days, so she didn’t count on it. Last she heard Dean Thomas was away on assignment and that only left one other Auror she was actually familiar with. Surely they wouldn’t assign  _ him _ . 

Yet, as she made her way to her office that morning, her charmed rolling suitcase in tow, there was the familiar blonde figure dressed all in black casually leaning against her door. “Granger,” he greeted.

“Malfoy,” she responded, bumping his shoulder as she grazed past him to enter her office.

“Looks like I’m headed to New York with you.” He followed her in a little too closely so when she stopped short he bumped into her.

Quickly, she pivoted and placed a hand on his chest to steady herself.  _ Hmm, firm _ . She cleared her throat before removing her hand. “Really? They couldn’t find  _ anyone _ else?”

“As flattered as I am by your enthusiasm, no. Potter’s on assignment, and so are Thomas, Johnson, and Billiwig. They’re not going to send any upper tier people on an mission that basically amounts to being your bodyguard. So the joys of watching your back fall to me, unfortunately.” He smirked and she felt the sudden urge to smack him.

“I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.” She moved to gather the rest of the items she might need.

“Oh, I’m well aware of that. In fact it’s one of the reasons I agreed to go—I figured this will be a bit of a break for me.” He crooked an eyebrow as if daring her to disagree with him. After all, he did have a stellar record when it came to tracking down dark wizards.

“Yes, well… I suppose if we can remain civil to each other than this won’t be so bad.”

He fixed her with a gaze that sent a shiver down her spine. “I’m willing to play nice if you are, Granger.”

_ This is going to be sheer hell _ , Hermione thought.

Draco watched her leave, following at a safer distance this time. Of all the assignments, he had never considered himself being sent to accompany Hermione Granger on a trip to the ‘States. After tracking dark wizards for the past few years, it was definitely going to be a bit of a respite. Not only that, he had to admit Granger had only grown more beautiful in the time since they left Hogwarts. He had always had a morbid fascination with the muggleborn who was consistently outperforming him, but he was rather loathe to admit that somewhere along the way that fascination had turned into attraction.

Now, as he watched the sway of her hips and the outline of her perfect arse in those damn muggle jeans, he realized he was actually looking forward to this case. A few days in a new location with a mildly frustrated Granger could be just what he needed.

They were using one of the ministry’s alloted international portkeys to travel straight to New York so they were dressed to blend in. Draco wore a suit—after all, he was still a Malfoy—but had foregone the traditional robes. Apparently Hermione was opting to go all out muggle: pairing a tight pair of jeans with a white blouse and black blazer. Along with her short stacked heel boots, he had to confess she looked downright edible.

“Is that all you’re bringing?” Her shrill tone jarred him right out of his lustful reverie.

He held up his small bag. “Think you’re the only one who knows about extendable charms?”

She flushed slightly before responding. “I guess not.”

The lovely pink color was slow to leave her cheeks, and he hoped he’d have the chance to make her do that again on this trip.

 

* * *

 

The ministry’s American portkey led right to the MACUSA headquarters. More specifically, to their arrivals room, where a special team of junior Aurors waited to pass their wands over them and make sure no contraband entered the states. After the Second Wizarding War, wizards from Europe were especially vetted. Security was stringent, but only for those in official capacities. Wherever Fletcher had entered the country, he was most  _ certainly _ not held to such rigorous procedures.

After a thorough inspection, they were led to a briefing room by one of the Aurors. The scrawny ginger looked a bit like an American Weasley and casually informed them, “The Chief Auror will be with you momentarily.” Then he left them alone.

“Well, this is a pleasant welcome,” Draco drawled.

“Indeed, I didn’t know their searching techniques were so barbaric.”

“He didn’t… touch you, did he?” For some reason, the idea of another wizard putting his grimy American hands all over Granger really irked him.

Hermione looked at Malfoy who seemed to be regarding her closely. Why he cared she wasn’t sure but the concern in his eyes couldn’t be faked. “No, not like that.”

“Good,” he shifted in the metal chair and crossed his arms.

Then the door opened and a witch in brilliant, royal blue robes swept in. Her baby pink hair was styled in an elaborate updo and complemented her caramel skin nicely. “Adele Picquery, Chief Auror, MACUSA. Nice to meet you—”

“Hermione Granger.” She stood up to introduce herself and held out her hand, which Adele shook heartily.

“ _ The _ Hermione Granger, really? Working for the DRCMC now, after all your heroics in the war… what, didn’t care for the Auror life?” Her smile was friendly.

“No, my interests have always been more academic, sometimes political. Your last name, if you don’t mind my asking—”

“Yes, the former president was my grandmother.”

“Wonderful! I’ve read about her. She did a lot for the protection of magical creatures in the United States.”

“Yes, big shoes to fill and all that… it’s why I chose law enforcement over politics.”

The sound of a throat clearing interrupted them. Hermione startled and looked at Malfoy. “Oh right, and this is Draco Malfoy, my Auror escort.” 

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard of you as well, Mr. Malfoy. The former Death Eater turned Auror. Very fascinating.”

“Yes, well. Go on with any uncomfortable questions you want to ask me,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck idly. It’s not like he hadn’t heard it all before.

“You mistake my meaning,” Adele began. “We have a long history of prejudice here in the US—and not just between the wizarding folk and No-Majs. I think it’s pretty impressive that you’ve been able to throw off the old ways and help track down your former brothers in arms. And, as I understand, you’ve become rather good at it.”

Draco shrugged. “I was a spoiled rich kid who didn’t know any better. All of us have to learn, some of us choose the hard way.”

“Be that as it may, not everyone has a redemption story quite like yours.” She winked and Draco felt a tightening in his chest. It wasn’t often that he received a compliment from someone, and he didn’t know what to do with it.

Adele asked them a few more questions about their case and the duration of their stay in the city. She offered them access to any resources they might need, all they had to do was come back. As they left the Woolworth building and stepped out into the brisk New York City air, Hermione thought it wasn’t too unlike London, if perhaps a bit dirtier and more crowded.

They walked down Broadway towards Chambers Street and took in the sights. There were lots of muggles on their lunch breaks, grabbing hot dogs from sidewalk carts and paying with the odd green American muggle money. Tourists with large cameras also milled about, and as Hermione listened, she could hear many different languages being spoken. A true melting pot,  just as she’d read.

“A bit busy, isn’t it?” Malfoy said, next to her.

“Yes, it is rather chaotic.”

“So, where are we headed?”

“It’s near Chinatown so”—she paused, unfurling the map that showed all the wizarding spots in Manhattan—“several blocks northeast of here.”

Draco sighed. “And we can’t apparate?”

“No, there’s too many muggles around.”

He groaned.

“What’s the matter, Malfoy? Your aristocratic legs can’t handle that much walking?”

“Are you calling me lazy, Granger?”

She smirked at him as they passed a man on the corner begging for change. “If the shoe fits…”

“I know my suit hides it well, but I’m actually quite fit underneath all these layers. I’m just annoyed we can’t use magic.”

Unbidden, Hermione felt her cheeks flush slightly. It’s not like she hadn’t noticed how attractive he was. She usually tried to ignore it, but he did look damn good in his suit. She’d already watched several women check him out as they walked along. “Yes, well, you know the statute of secrecy is taken even more strongly over here. It’s been less than forty years since they started letting wizards and muggles intermarry.”

“Yes, I know,” he drawled.

She shot him a surprised look.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I do read, Granger.” He guessed he shouldn’t be surprised when she assumed his ignorance on certain subjects—her closest male friends were Potter and Weasley, after all.

“Right, of course. I didn’t mean—”

“Save it. I know you’re used to being the smartest person in the room.”

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but then thought better of it. Just a couple more blocks to go anyway. She didn’t want to keep inadvertently insulting Malfoy. It seemed like he was trying to be agreeable and for that, she was thankful.

 

* * *

 

“I think the entrance should be somewhere around here,” Hermione said, looking at the map as they approached Canal Street. There were so many little shops and storefronts, it was hard to tell.

Draco lightly touched her arm, causing her to look up from the map. “Look.”

The souvenir shop in front of them had a dragon on it’s awning that was very casually moving. He would look down to the shop below then blow a small plume of fire. A small woman tending the shop held out her hand in welcome. “You looking for a little magic? Right this way.”

They looked at each other briefly, grinning, and stepped inside.

Brighter and more colorful than Diagon Alley, the wizarding section of Chinatown was bursting with people. Witches and wizards overflowed from the tiny shops selling an assortment of potions, supplies, and other magical items. They made their way down a cobblestone street, not unlike home, as they searched for their hotel. The Golden Gong boasted a tavern and gift shop on the first floor, and nine floors of rooms above. An elderly wizard with a long mustache greeted them from the front vestibule. “How may I help you?”

“Granger and Malfoy, checking in.”

“Yes, I have you right here.” He looked at the big leather bound book in front of him. “Here is your room key.”

Draco leaned over the counter. “No, there should be two rooms. You don’t have two rooms listed?”

The old man peered at them over his spectacles. “Sorry, sir. I have Granger and Malfoy, one room. It’s right here.” He picked up the book to show them.

“Unbelievable,” Draco huffed, turning around.

“It’s fine Malfoy, we’ll just get an additional room.” Hermione shot the man an apologetic look.

“Oh, sorry. Can’t do that. We’re completely full.” He took off the spectacles, breathing on them and wiping them off on his robes.

“Look—” Draco began.

“Thaddeus,” the older wizard supplied.

“Thaddeus. My associate and I have traveled from London for a very dangerous assignment. Are you absolutely sure you don’t have an extra room?”

“Nope. ‘fraid not. You’re more than welcome to try another establishment, but I think you’ll find that places in the city fill up fast.”

“We understand. This is fine. Thank you.” Hermione took the key from Thaddeus, grabbed Draco’s arm and headed for the lift.

“ _ What _ —did you do that for?” Draco looked at her sharply once they were inside the lift.

“There was no use arguing with him, Malfoy. Honestly. Besides, this is the best location for our stay. Fireplaces are limited here, so Floo isn’t going to be an option everywhere and you saw how many muggles there are in this city.”

He sighed. “I know.”

“So we have to share a room for a few days. How bad can it be?”

_ Very bad _ , Draco thought as he stared at the lone bed in the center of the room. There was only one bed, and it wasn’t even a king size—more like a generous double. “There’s only one bed, Granger. What do you say now?”

Her cheeks went slightly pink in that way that he was already starting to enjoy so much. She looked around for a sofa, but the only other furniture present was a table, two chairs, and an armoire. It was worse than the Leaky Cauldron. “We are both adults. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Are you meaning to suggest we actually share the bed?”

“Well, I’m not sleeping on the floor!”

“Neither am I!”

“Then it’s settled. We will both sleep in the bed and not make a big deal of it, like the rational human beings that we are.”

“Fine.” Draco sat his bag on the table, folding himself into one of the chairs and running a hand through his hair. He was pretty sure it would  _ not _ be fine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: this chapter has a brief mention of what has been (in America) a gay slur. In Britain, it's slang for cigarettes. I have bolded the paragraph in case it needs to be skipped. 
> 
> I believe this paragraph is important character development, and here's the link to the [article](https://medium.com/th-ink/a-history-of-fags-and-faggots-295726f549df) I read about this particular word before posting this chapter, in case you're interested.

The light became too bright to keep her eyes shut any longer, so Hermione reluctantly opened them, struggling to remember where she was. It was then that she noted the arm wrapped tightly around her waist and the slightly pointy nose tucked into the base of her neck. For Merlin’s sake, she was spooning with Draco Malfoy! Her brain screamed at her to move and get the fuck out of the bed, but another part of her made no effort to move. She was comfortable, she had slept great, and it had been so long since anyone had held her. _Just a few more minutes…_

Then, from behind she heard a slight moan as he stirred and shifted. _Was that—?_ “Oh dear god.”

“Granger,” he whispered against her neck.

“Malfoy, let me go.” She was definitely _not_ imagining it. He was hard and pressed right up against her bum.

Apparently this was enough to jolt him completely awake as his hand whipped off of her, and she suddenly felt cold. They both shot up out of the bed, staring wide-eyed at each other. He had just a pair of pyjama bottoms on, and she tried to pry her eyes away from his chest. Had he always been so well-defined?

“Right,” his voice squeaked slightly. “I’m going to go shower.”

Hermione nodded and sat back down on the bed. Realistically she knew Malfoy’s issue had nothing to do with her and was simply biology. Regardless, she wasn’t sure why the thought of him in that state had made her a little excited. Yes, she could admit he was attractive, and yes, he had been nothing but civil so far, helpful even. “Arghhh,” she grumbled as her head fell into her hands. This was not what she had signed up for.

 

* * *

 

Draco huffed and jammed his hands into his coat pockets. They were currently walking through Central Park and it was chillier than he had expected. Not to mention, he’d been putting up with Granger’s history lessons all damned day.

After their little incident that morning, she hadn’t been able to shut up. He was all too happy to not talk about what had happened—especially the fact that he’d gotten the best night’s sleep he’d had in years and thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of her in his arms—but if he had to hear one more fact about Newt Scamander or his bloody nephew Rolf…

“Oh look, this is where Newt Scamander captured the escaped erumpent—”

“Granger, would you give it a rest with the Scamander shit already?”

Hermione stopped short, her skirt swaying in the breeze. Today she had chosen a charcoal dress with stockings and kitten heels. Draco had been trying not to ogle her arse; he kept failing. “Sorry, I just read about all of these events; I never imagined I’d get to see it in person.”

His face softened. “I—uh, yeah, I guess it is kind of interesting. Carry on.”

He continued to listen to her go on about nifflers and the obscurus and how the subway has changed so much over the years. Somewhere along the way, Draco realized he was actually starting to enjoy himself… and the company, even though they were combing the city for a shady wizard he’d actually presumed dead. He gazed at Hermione as she tucked a lock of her unruly mocha hair behind her ear and bit down on her bottom lip in concentration. As she let go, he watched the color return to the spot and felt some of his blood rush decidedly south. Why did she have to be so bloody enticing?

“Malfoy?”

_Shit_. What had she been saying? “Yes, Granger?”

“I said, are you getting hungry at all?”

“Famished.”

They stopped at a pizza cafe and sat against the window, overlooking a bustling Columbus Avenue. Though, Hermione thought, they should have sat outside as suddenly a brown owl landed on one of the outside tables, staring pointedly at them. Malfoy shot her a quizzical look, his blonde eyebrow raised as he popped up and rushed outside to retrieve the bit of parchment attached to his leg.

“It’s from Potter,” he announced as he folded himself back into the metal chair, reading.

Hermione watched him intently as he browsed through the letter. “What’s it say then?” Honestly she wished he’d hand it over instead of keeping her waiting, but then again, Harry was _his_ colleague.

“They have a number of lookouts in wizarding New York and someone notified them that Fletcher may be meeting with a potential buyer tomorrow night. There’s an address here for us to check it out.” He paused, a dry laugh leaving his lips and Hermione tried not to stare at the bit of marinara at the corner of his mouth. “He also says, ‘Have Hermione show you how to use the mobile.’”

She laughed as he pulled the little gray brick from his pocket, ‘Nokia’ emblazoned on the front and handed it to her. “You’ve had it on silent this whole time!” There were five missed calls.

“Well I don’t know how to bloody work the thing!”

“If you had learned, Harry wouldn’t have to send an owl to the middle of Manhattan. Poor little thing.”

“Please… he was probably excited to leave Britain for a while.”

“We’re lucky he made it alive.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh don’t be so dramatic.”

She was about to protest, her mouth opened to give a pithy retort, but upon seeing his grin, she decided against it. Instead, she took her napkin and reached across the table to swipe at the edge of his mouth. His eyes went wide.

“You had a bit of sauce.” She blushed, realizing her unconscious act of intimacy.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

They finished eating their pizza in relative comfort, Hermione realizing she had massively misjudged Draco Malfoy. His antagonistic side had evolved into something more playful, and while he still grated on her nerves, she had to admit—she liked getting under his skin, too.

 

* * *

 

Since they had a solid lead and nowhere to be before tomorrow night, they decided to do a little looking around. There was another wizarding spot in Harlem. Draco tried his best to hide his motion sickness as they rode the A train to 125th Street. Once they stepped through the veil to the magical side, there was so much to see. The mixture of wizards and magical beings was slightly different than what they were used to, and even the fashion was different. American witches and wizards seemed to have robes that more closely matched muggle fashion. She supposed it was needed in a city with so dense a population. The smell of fried food and smoked meats wafted through the air and they gravitated towards the nearest pub, one that had lively jazz music emanating from it.

It seemed butterbeer was just as much a staple here as back home and they were both on their second glass as Draco observed Hermione laughing, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink.

_Oh Granger, what am I going to do with you?_

“Hmm?” she asked, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

Had he said that aloud? “Oh, um… nothing.”

Her face grew solemn. “I’d like to apologize to you, Draco. Harry had told me you were different, but I didn’t want to believe him, and I’ll admit I wasn’t looking forward to this trip… but I’m actually enjoying myself—our mission notwithstanding.”

The use of his first name took him by surprise, but he quickly schooled his features into a casual smirk. “Wow, Granger. That sounded like it pained you to say.”

“Oh, hush.”

“In all seriousness, I need to apologize to you as well”— he grabbed her hand, unable to stop the word vomit—“for everything. How I acted, the things I said, my inability to intervene when you were tortured...”

“Please,” she nearly whispered. “There was nothing you could’ve done about that last part.” Her eyes were glistening, and Draco wished he could do something about it. Of all his regrets, what had happened to her was the one that he thought about the most.

“I didn’t even try.”

“She could’ve killed you. I don’t hold that against you.”

“I do.”

Hermione saw the pain in his smoky eyes and knew he was sincere. She would have never expected an apology from Draco Malfoy, but here it was. Then she realized he was still holding her hand, absentmindedly stroking the skin with his thumb. It was almost affectionate. She pulled her hand back. “Yes, well you shouldn’t. And for the record, I forgive you. I think it’s best to let the past die.”

He gave her a slow smile as the sound of a wailing saxophone filled the room.

 

* * *

 

**On the way back to the hotel, Draco realized he was in desperate need of a smoke. His mother had pressed him into giving up the nasty habit, but being in this strange environment with Granger and the odd tension between them was starting to stress him out. He let her go on ahead of him as he stopped at one of the corner shops—bodegas as they were called here—to buy a pack of fags. _Cigarettes, remember? The other word is a slur here._ Bloody Americans, why did they have to be so different about everything?**

As he lit up, he walked the streets of wizarding Chinatown. It was later, and the crowd of magical folk was a lot more colorful than during the day. A lot of these people looked like the sort he would see in Knockturn Alley. A shorter wizard, with a bowler hat and woolen robes approached him.

“You, Sir, look like a man with taste. Perhaps, a bit of a dangerous side, too?”

“Bugger off.”

“Oooh, one of our British brethren. Bet you went to Hogwarts. Maybe even know Harry Potter?”

Draco huffed in exasperation. “What do you want?”

“I happen to know of a gathering for rich, magical individuals like yourself. We specialize in selling rare, valuable items. Let me know if you’re interested. It’s an extravagant affair.” He passed Draco a card and disapparated before he could respond.

“Strange little man,” he muttered as he pocketed the card without looking at it.

 

* * *

 

Hermione read the same paragraph for the third time. Where was Malfoy? She had taken her time getting ready for bed, touching base with the ministry, and starting a book about selkie mating habits; but he still hadn’t returned. She was about to throw her coat back on and go looking for him when the door opened.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

His eyes widened at the sight of her in her peach nightgown. Had she been wearing that the night before? Draco thought he would’ve remembered. “Uh, yeah, fine.”

As he drifted closer, she sniffed the air. “Draco Malfoy, have you been _smoking_?”

“Yes! What are you, my bloody mother?”

“No, but you should know it’s bad for your health.” She crossed her arms, scowling for emphasis.

“Thanks, I had no clue,” he quipped as he threw his jacket over one of the chairs and entered the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

“Infuriating man,” she muttered.

Once he exited and got into bed, she realized he had charmed the smell away. Hermione heaved a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to bear the scent the whole night. “You know, I’ve worked with Rolf on a lot of cases. He’s really got a gift with creatures—it’s too bad he couldn’t join us.”

“Pity,” Draco mumbled as he laid down, his back to her. Inside, he was seething. Not only that she had caught him indulging in his bad habit, but she had brought up Scamander yet again. Then it hit him, _Granger fancies Rolf Scamander_. His ears flushed pink and he screwed his eyes shut, willing himself to go to sleep so he wouldn’t have to think about them—talking in hushed tones about creatures and making eyes at each other.

“Goodnight, Draco.” The lights went out.

“Goodnight, Granger.” His irritation faded just a little as he realized she had used his first name again.

 

* * *

 

He woke up first the next morning, with Hermione nestled tightly against his chest. They were facing each other this time, with her head just under his chin. He nosed her curls, smelling faintly of citrus and sage. Draco closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her and thinking, _I could get used to this_.

Slowly, her eyes blinked open, looking a rather enchanting honey brown in the early morning light. She pulled back and looked right at him, eyes widening.

Before she could do anything, he murmured, “‘Morning, Granger.”

“G’morning,” she mumbled sleepily. Then, attempting to roll away, she grunted when he wouldn’t let go. She placed a hand on his chest. “Draco…”

He smirked. “Hmm?”

“Why are we cuddling?”

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“That’s not the point.” She looked so irritated, he wondered what she’d do if he just kissed her right now. He let his head dip a little lower as he contemplated. “Dra—”

“What?”

“I have to pee.”

He sighed and released her. “Fine.”

 

* * *

 

They said nothing about it the whole day. Hermione was plagued with self-consciousness, absently wondering about every little thing Draco did. What was this new thing between them? She was sure something had changed, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Besides, now was not a good time for distractions.

The time had come for them to follow up on Harry’s lead. They both dressed in the fanciest clothes they had brought: Hermione in a gold dress with thin straps that hugged her curves and had a slit up the side to her thigh and Draco in an all black suit with an emerald green tie.

His mouth had gone bone dry when she stepped out of the bathroom, her curls piled high atop her head.

“Bloody hell, Granger.”

“Is it okay?”

He gulped. “More than okay. I feel like I’m going to have to beat the yanks away from you.”

She flushed pink for a second before answering, “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

Draco flashed his teeth as he stepped closer to her, fingering a loose curl near her temple. “I promise I’m not.”

“Well, you clean up rather nicely, too.” She released the shaky breath she’d been holding as she took his proffered hand.

By the time they got to the address on the letter from Harry, the weather had cooled down considerably and Hermione wished she had brought more than just the sparkly shawl she now wore. Draco, realizing her discomfort, ran his hands over her shoulders in an effort to warm them. “We’ll be inside soon.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, feeling warmed to her core.

They walked down the street and turned where the building should have been, but all that was there was a rather dingy alley.

“Where the hell is it?” Draco huffed.

“Look!” Hermione pointed to a collection of irregular bricks in the wall. It reminded her of Diagon Alley. She walked over and tapped the brightest one with her wand. Immediately the bricks maneuvered themselves into a door, which was promptly cracked open by a bored looking goblin. “Password?” he grunted.

Hermione looked at Draco. “Did he mention a password?”

He looked at the scrap of parchment again. “Gigglewater?”

“Bingo!” He pushed the door the rest of the way out to grant them entrance.

Hermione felt like they had been sucked back in time. Only she wasn’t wearing a time turner. Yet, the goblin who opened the door looked like he stepped right out of the 1920’s. In fact, most of the witches, wizards and magical beings inside were dressed in similar garb. She looked back at Draco, who also seemed puzzled by this turn of events.

Not one to be taken too off guard, she quickly and silently transfigured both of their outfits to blend in more. Her gold dress became flapper style, complete with fringe. His suit suddenly fit a bit differently and had a vest. Even their shoes changed.

“There,” she said, straightening his now-bowtie by hand. “Now we don’t stick out like sore thumbs.”

Draco cleared his throat as her finger lightly grazed his skin. He didn’t bother to say that she still stood out because she was the most beautiful witch in the room. “Thanks,” was all he muttered instead.

They found a nondescript table in a corner and sat down, ordering drinks from the house elf waitress. Draco twiddled his thumbs as his eyes raked over the room. “At least they have firewhiskey.”

Hermione smiled. “Where’s your sense of adventure? I’m sure this gigglewater stuff is perfectly fine.”

“I’m tracking down a selkie in New York City with Hermione Granger; I think my sense of adventure is just fine,” he countered with a smirk.

“Fair enough,” she smiled back.

The waitress popped up beside them with a _crack!_ and set down their drinks. Draco sipped his firewhiskey while eyeing Hermione, who cautiously took a nip of her drink. Suddenly, a bubble of laughter broke forth from somewhere within and her face lit up as she let it loose.

“Well, it is aptly named,” she remarked after calming down.

He bit back his remark, unable to contain a grin. She was absolutely radiant when she laughed. He covered having to say anything else by lifting his drink to his lips again.

She scanned the room again, spotting a suspicious figure near the stage where a witch in head to toe sequins was singing about her spurned No-Maj lover. The man wore all dark clothing and kept skirting his eyes back and forth. Shifty, that’s what he was.

“Draco,” she whispered cocking her head in the direction of the suspect.

He nodded as he trailed her gaze. “Think that’s our man?”

“Possibly. He looks nervous, like he’s waiting for someone, possibly Fletcher.”

“I agree.” Thinking they needed a better look, he asked, “Care to dance, Granger?”

“I’d be delighted,” she said, catching his drift.

He rose and offered his hand to her, leading her to the dance floor. Once they were there, he pulled her close, splaying his hand across the bare expanse of her back. Hermione gasped slightly under his touch. His hand was much warmer than she expected, but a shiver went down her spine from the contact. He nuzzled her hairline with his nose as he murmured, “He’s got something in his hand, but I need a better look.”

She nodded against him as he twirled them closer, but her mind was barely on their mission. Draco smelled amazing. Not only that, but the hard lines of his muscles pressed up against her was making her feel all kinds of untoward things. Unprofessional things. A dull ache between her thighs registered, causing her eyes to go wide. _Unspeakable things_. Her attraction to him had been growing ever since they arrived. He’d always been handsome—but these last few years? He definitely had grown into his own. And this trip had been actually pleasant so far. She’d half expected they would be tearing each other’s throats out by now, but he had been rather fun to work with. Sure, they could bicker, but—

“Granger, you still with me?”

_Bollocks_ . She’d been so lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t hear what he said. “Sorry.” She pulled back to meet his gaze and those steely eyes were looking at her with such intensity she nearly lost her breath. He was too close. If she just pressed up on her toes, she could kiss him. The realization hit her like a hippogriff on speed: she wasn’t just attracted to Draco, she _fancied_ him. Wanted him.

“I said, I think he’s getting ready to make a dash for it. Looks like Fletcher didn’t show.” Draco looked down at her quizzically, unable to avert his eyes from the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Her breathing was labored, pupils dilated, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was about to kiss him. Preposterous. Granger wasn’t interested in _him_. She had made that quite clear. Yet the way her cheeks flushed had him hoping maybe he was wrong. His gaze lingered on her mouth a beat too long and he drew infinitesimally closer to her. Her lips parted slightly. All he needed to do was lean in the extra few centimeters—

Suddenly, the man they were supposed to be keeping an eye on shot up out of his seat and made a break for the exit.

“Fuck!” Draco took off, Hermione right on his tail.

They followed him out into the alley, down a side street, and around another corner but the grimy little wizard was fast and knew the city better. They had lost him. Hermione stood, hands on her hips as she looked around—there were several routes he could have taken and whichever one they would have chosen, he was long gone by now.

“Great. We lost him.” Malfoy’s scowl was fierce and directed at her. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had been paying attention.”

“Me? How is it _my_ fault? You had your eyes on him one second, and he was gone the next!”

“Well, if you hadn’t been off in la la land, I wouldn’t have had to rouse you out of it… I don’t have time for this.” He took advantage of the steam rising from the manhole they were standing over and grabbed her arm, apparating them to the alley beside their hotel.

As soon as they were in the lobby, she wrenched her arm free. “Would you _let go of me_?”

He held his hands up as if to say ‘fine’ without actually saying anything.

She stormed off toward the lift, and he followed her. They rode in silence up to their floor, both seething that their suspect had gotten away. Both inwardly mad at themselves for being too distracted by the other to notice him leaving.

When they got off on their floor, Hermione rushed into the room, trying to fling the door shut behind her. Draco stopped it with his shoe. “Oh no, Granger. You’re not getting off that easily,” he said, slipping inside before shutting the door. He cast a quick silencing charm over the room in preparation for what would surely be a shouting match. Then he advanced on her. “ _What_ has gotten into you? You are never careless! You are normally so observant that it drives me mad—so what happened back there?”

She balled her fists at her sides. It’s not like she could just tell him she had been staring at the curve of his philtrum and wondering if his lips were as soft as they looked. “I don’t know.”

He huffed. “That’s a first, you not knowing something. I know you weren’t drunk because you’d only had one drink. I just can’t imagine where your head was at.”

“Look,” she countered, growing indignant. “I could ask the same of you. You had your eagle eyes on him the whole night and suddenly he leaves and you’re what? Looking the other way? You can’t be so upset with me when you were the one who let him slip away!”

It was true. Draco had gotten distracted by her signs of arousal, if that’s even what they were. They had been working so well together, but he couldn’t deny his feelings any longer. She was becoming a liability. Still, he couldn’t bloody well _say_ that. “We were both supposed to be keeping on eye on him, Granger! Why can’t you just admit you fucked up?”

She stepped closer, pointing a finger at his chest. “Why can’t _you_?”

He grabbed her hand, pushing her finger back into her fist, and they both stared at each other for a moment. They were both flushed with anger, breathing heavily. Then, in a split-second decision he was sure he’d regret later, he yanked her towards him. She crashed into his chest with a slight grunt and looked up at him with wide eyes as his mouth claimed hers. He half expected her to pull away, to slap him. Instead, she melted into him, her hands coming up to touch his chest and wind around his neck, into his hair. He deepened the kiss, feeling her mouth go pliant for him as his tongue pressed into hers. She moaned, and he was done for.

Stumbling forward, he pushed her up against the wall, one hand coming to twine in her hair while the other caged her in. He pulled back slightly to look in her eyes, those beautiful chocolate pools that were now nearly black with lust. _So much for bloody Rolf_. He smirked. “Merlin, I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.”

“Me too,” she whispered as she pulled him back down to kiss her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh *dodges tomatoes* sorry to cut it off there, but this chapter was getting too long! Sexy times are ahead...
> 
> I'm hoping to stick to Sunday updates. I've also increased the chapter count.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione loved to be in control. It was something she tried to exercise in every area of her life… but when it came to  _ this _ , she was oddly okay with Draco being in charge. The thought even thrilled her a little. She sighed and let him lead the way as he ran his hands down her back and squeezed her bum.  He broke their kiss to mumble, “You have the most perfect arse, Granger. Did you know that?”

“Mmm, I guess I do now.” She felt his responding smirk against her mouth just before he dipped his tongue in to taste her again.

He gripped her hard on her thighs, drawing her up the wall. His strength was surprising, but she helped by hopping, wrapping her legs around him so her apex was pressed right up against his erection. He pressed into her harder as he bucked his hips and Hermione moaned loudly.  _ Yes _ , she thought.  _ Fuck me against this wall, Draco _ .

Surprised by her wicked thoughts, she opened her eyes slightly to see a mess of platinum hair in front of her as he nipped at her throat. Sex with Ron had been nice, but decidedly vanilla. She had a feeling, as her clit pulsed in anticipation, that sex with Draco would be anything but.

“Granger,” Draco murmured, suckling the dip in her collarbone. “How do you taste so bloody good?” He could scarcely believe what was happening. He was about to have sex with Hermione Granger—something he had wanted for a  _ really _ long time, if he were being honest. But he didn’t want to take her right up against the wall. No, he had so many plans for them.

Slowly, he backed up—still holding her firm in his arms—and made his way over to the bed.

“Draco,” she purred, scooting herself back on the mattress. A tigress, his Hermione was.

“I hope you know, Granger, that this is not going to be quick. I intend on fucking you for as long as possible. Let’s see how well my  _ Muffliato _ holds up, eh?”

She squirmed in suspense, and he used her momentary lapse in attention to drag her to the edge of the bed. He roughly shoved her dress up, revealing the black lace knickers underneath. “Oh, Granger. Were these just for me?” His smirk was dastardly as he thumbed the elastic and dragged them down her tanned, toned legs.

Hermione was left speechless as she watched Draco undress her. She had worn nice underwear because she had on a nice dress. The fact that he was seeing them now was just the icing on the cake. She moaned when his fingers pushed apart her thighs, brushing so close to where she needed him. He knelt on the carpet, settling her legs over his shoulders.

“Fuck. Even your pussy’s perfect,” he mumbled before diving in, licking a forceful stripe through her folds.

“Ah— _ Draco _ !” Hermione wriggled beneath him, unused to the sensation. This was something she hadn’t done much before and rarely enjoyed. She dragged her fingers through his hair as he kept up the barrage, alternating patterns with his tongue. When he dipped a finger into her opening she shuddered, pulses of pleasure rushing up her spine. Then he added another finger and she was soaring. He had to grip her hip with his free hand to keep her still. 

Granger was quickly becoming a wanton mess beneath him, and Draco relished every second. She tasted even better than he imagined, a lingering bittersweetness on his tongue. Her smooth heat started to contract around his fingers and he couldn’t wait to be inside of her. He just wanted to drive her a little mad first. 

“Malfoy,” she grunted. “Draco—please.” She was basically whimpering now and Draco took advantage, crooking his two fingers to reach that delicate area inside. Then she was gone, spasming around him and pulling his hair tightly. He smirked through the pain and thrust a few more times before withdrawing, giving her one last suckle before licking his fingers clean.

Hermione was utterly ruined. She didn’t even want to think about what she looked like spread out on the hotel bed, her hair fanned out around her, probably frizzy beyond repair—not to mention the state of her dress. But she had just had the best orgasm of her life, given to her by Draco Malfoy. Her brain almost couldn’t compute.

She didn’t have time to dwell on this as he pulled her to a sitting position and yanked the dress the rest of the way off of her. It was then that she returned to herself, a hazy smile on her face as she watched him undress before her.

“I’m not done with you yet, Granger.”

“Hermione. I want you to call me Hermione when you’re inside of me.”

His silver eyes darkened. “As you wish.” He fingered the strap of her black bra, the last article of clothing she had on. “This. Off.  _ Now _ .”

“Yes, sir!” She obliged, unhooking the garment and tossing it off to the side.

Draco’s cock twitched at the way she said ‘Sir’. It made him think of approximately a million dirty things he wanted to do to her. Not to mention her breasts were now bare to him as well, forcing him to pay attention. He cupped them lightly as he crawled atop her onto the bed. “Merlin, your tits. Absolutely gorgeous.”

Hermione couldn’t help but giggle at his superfluous praise. No one had made such claims about her anatomy before.

“Something funny then?” he asked, smirk painting his features.

“Well, it’s just—” she lost her words with a moan as he took her breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue around her already hardened nipple. “Oh  _ god _ .”

He released her with a pop, muttering, “‘Draco’ is fine.”

“Oh, shut up,” she chastised, dragging him back up so she could kiss him again. When they were both sufficiently breathless, she looked into his eyes. What she saw made her gasp slightly as she started to realize they weren’t just relieving tension. There was something  _ here _ . Something scary.

Draco gripped himself and ran his tip through her folds, spending not a small amount of time brushing against her clit. Then he paused for a second, gripping her chin and turning her head so he could look into her eyes as he murmured, “Hermione,” and slid into her with one smooth thrust. He pulled back slowly, relishing the feel of her tight channel gripping him on his way out before shoving back into her with more velocity.

She gasped beneath him and dug her fingernails into his back. Draco arched into her, the pain mixing with pleasure as he drove in again and again. Nothing in his life had ever felt this right. When he reared back to thrust again, her hips canted up to meet him. 

“Draco,” Hermione moaned, running her hands down his back and squeezing his tight arse to drive him in deeper. He wasn’t any girthier than Ron had been, but he was certainly longer and when she opened her hips wider, he hit a spot inside of her she wasn’t aware existed. A cry left her lips as she felt her climax coming on.

She was starting to flutter around him, and Draco smiled, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips before bringing his hand back down to where he was pistoning into her. His fingers stroked her sensitive bud with abandon as he crooned, “Come for me, Hermione.”

The sound of his voice put her over the edge, clenching around him in waves of pleasure. He followed close behind, swallowing her moans with another searing kiss while his hot seed pulsed into her. Then he collapsed onto her, his weight pinning her to the bed as he used his long fingers to push the sweaty strands of hair off her face and pepper it with kisses.

When he pulled out, Hermione felt slightly cold as he rolled away to grab his wand. He whispered the incantation over her abdomen, which suddenly felt warmer. “Contraception charm.”

“Right. Thanks.” She had always been so careful to do that before in her past experiences… then again, nothing had ever been this spontaneous. She was entirely spent. She had to be, because surely it was just her sleepy mind that imagined Draco pulling her close, kissing her hair over and over while whispering, “My beautiful Hermione.”

 

* * *

 

Blackout curtains were one of Draco’s favorite inventions. He had them in his flat, so he could sleep in when he wanted to without the bloody sun shining in his eyes. He granted the hotel blinds a foul look before he remembered exactly where he was and who was tucked neatly in his embrace, snoring ever so softly against his chest. 

Hermione Granger was the most beautiful creature he had ever had the pleasure to behold, especially while she slept and her wonderfully witty—but often annoying—mouth was closed. Fuck. He was falling hard. Shagging her last night had been among the top experiences of his life: better than his first time on a broom, even. He idly wondered if she’d regret it when she woke up.

Then, a throat clearing roused him out of his reverie.

His eyes widened as he took in the not one—but two—strangers standing in their room. “Granger,” he whispered, gently shaking her. “Wake up.”

Hermione stretched lazily like a cat and gazed up at him. “Good morning.”

“Uhh—we have company.”

“Wha—oh shit!” she cursed as she turned over and noticed the intruders, grabbing the sheet more tightly around her naked torso.

Draco quickly grabbed his wand off the nightstand and turned it at the pair: a witch with honey blonde hair and a wizard with black, spiky hair like Harry’s. He was only missing the glasses. “Who are you, and what the fuck are you doing in our room?”

“Right,” the woman spoke up. She cleared her throat again before continuing. “Well, we were knocking, but there was a rather powerful  _ Muffliato _ cast on the room and we weren’t sure if you two were okay—”

“What Jenkins here is trying to say, Auror Malfoy and Ms. Granger, is that we broke in to assure your safety. My name is Eddie Kim and we’re with MACUSA. We need your help.”

“Can we bloody get dressed first?” Draco yelled.

“Y-yes, of course,” Jenkins muttered as she and Kim left them alone.

Once the intruders were gone, Draco turned to her. “What a way to wake up, huh?

Hermione nodded, still in shock from having two complete strangers see her in such a state. Then she looked over at Draco, his hair sticking out at odd angles, illuminated from behind by the sun shining into their room. He looked like a fallen angel, and she felt something bloom in her chest. This might be more than just a tryst. 

He took her nod as a good sign and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers as he cupped her cheek. “C’mon. Let’s get dressed.”

 

* * *

 

Once they were decent, they let the pair back into the room. Hermione conjured two additional chairs for the table and they had breakfast sent up from the kitchen. Jenkins, whose first name was Nancy, poured cream in her coffee while she spoke. “We apprehended Mundungus Fletcher last night on his way to meet with someone regarding the purchase of your selkie.”

“Oh really?” Hermione sipped her tea before spreading jam on a slice of toast. 

“So that’s why he never showed,” Draco mused, scratching the bit of scruff that had appeared on his chin.

Kim nodded. “Turns out your perp has flexible loyalties. We asked him to reschedule his meeting with the buyer for this morning. Thing is, we’ve been tracking a ring of magical creature trafficking for several months now, and we think this could be the key to nabbing their ringleader.”

Jenkins set her mug down on the table. “They smuggle the creatures here from all over the world and host these grand parties where the richest wizards and witches bid on them. It’s sick. We haven’t been able to infiltrate them completely yet and the last time we went undercover, the mission was compromised.”

“Yes, but they’ve never seen you before,” Kim continued. “If you’re willing, we’d love for you to pose as buyers and go to one of these events. It would really help our case.”

Hermione looked at Draco warily. Jenkins suddenly interjected, “In disguise, of course. I know the pair of you are relatively famous in Europe.”

“Yes, well…” Draco trailed off, contemplating. Then, remembering his little encounter, stood up and crossed the room to where his coat hung on the hook behind the bathroom door. He pulled out the card the odd man had given him and handed it to Jenkins. “Is it something like this?”

Her green eyes widened. “Where did you get this?”

“A rather eccentric looking man stopped me the other night and gave it to me. I think he knew I had money.”

Hermione was aghast. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think much of it at the time. He was a strange little fellow.”

Kim took the card from Jenkins and turned it over in his hand. “Looks like there’s a party tonight. I’d suggest you contact him and tell him you’re interested.”

 

* * *

 

Another gaze around the room confirmed Hermione’s inner thoughts: she was wildly out of place here. Though, of course, no one present would’ve known. Her hair was charmed black, straight, and obscenely shiny. The skin-tight red dress hugged her in all the right places and she was sure Draco had made her breasts a cup size larger, though he swore he didn’t. Tonight, she wasn’t Hermione, she was Emelda van Sant. She and her husband Julian were in the market for something rare and exotic to add to their collection. 

Mr. van Sant was currently schmoozing all the other hoity-toity people in the room. He looked right at home, a champagne flute in his one hand, a shiny ring on the other that was moving about as he spoke. He was not in disguise, as the man who had offered him the invitation had already seen him—but Draco did manage to give him the fake name when he contacted about the party. He was also dressed in a rich navy suit, very different from his normal all-black wardrobe. She thought he looked rather dashing.

Knowing they would be searched for any magic upon entry, they had chosen to utilize muggle surveillance equipment. Draco was wearing a wire underneath his suit while Hermione snapped photos discreetly with a hidden camera in her handbag. It seemed espionage suited them. Suddenly, he caught her eye across the room and winked at her. Butterflies took off inside Hermione’s stomach, and she mentally cursed herself. She was falling for Draco Malfoy, of all people.

Walking across the room, she slipped her arm in his and kissed him on the cheek. “I hope you’re playing nice, darling.”

“I always do, love.” His use of that nickname sent a thrill down her spine. She knew they were both playing roles, but Hermione thought she could get used to this.

Draco wrapped his arm possessively around Hermione’s waist. She was his wife tonight, after all. He much preferred her normal look, but he had to admit: the darker hair didn’t look bad. She was stunning either way. A feeling came over him, and he couldn’t resist placing a kiss on her bare shoulder. “Cheeky,” she chided. “Careful or we’ll have to leave the party early.”

“Mm, and that would be a tragedy,” he answered.

The older witch he’d been conversing with smiled. “Aren’t you two adorable? Newlyweds, I presume.”

“Six months… does it show? It took me forever to wear her down.” Draco’s teeth flashed a brilliant white.

Hermione was surprised how easily the answers came to him. It was the Slytherin cunning, she knew, but still—it was almost as if he’d given this a lot of thought. She was disrupted from these thoughts by a wizard in flamboyant golden robes announcing it was time for the main event. 

Everyone took their seats in the adjacent room: everything was gilded, dripping with wealth. The seats were plush, raspberry-colored velvet numbers, and paddles were provided for bidding— like a regular auction. The wizard in gold took his place at the head of the room and the curtains behind him opened, revealing a large pane of glass through which they could safely view the dangerous creatures.

An hour into the proceedings, Hermione could barely keep her dinner down. It was deplorable. They hadn’t seen the selkie yet, but a menagerie of other animals had been paraded before them: acromantulas, baby dragons, and even a phoenix had all already been sold. Draco remained as stoic as ever, but when the phoenix was brought out, he squeezed her hand tight. This was so wrong.

“Now, ladies and gents, our next lot is very special indeed. Here all the way from the UK, we have a juvenile selkie.”

She held back a gasp as a tank barely big enough to house the small merperson was wheeled across behind the glass. The little selkie was clearly distressed, her hair flowing wildly as she banged against the glass, her terror stricken mouth opened in a silent scream. Hermione felt her chest constrict.

Draco nodded minutely to her as the bidding began and he raised his paddle. They had to procure the selkie, not just to return to Scamander, but also to get behind the scenes and help the US Aurors with their case. He smirked to himself, thinking,  _ What Mrs. van Sant wants, she gets.  _

 

* * *

 

After all the bidding was done, they hung back. Hermione slipped out her wand from the holster on her thigh, and Draco ogled the bare expanse of flesh for a few seconds before remembering their mission. He didn’t think he’d be able to work another case with her again if she would be dressed like this—it was far too distracting. 

He eyed the terrible carpet with disdain as they crept down the hallway to the back where they assumed the creatures were being held. The rest of the guests would be coming back the following day to collect their purchases, but if the two of them were successful, there wouldn’t be anything to pick up. Hermione kept in front of him, giving him the perfect view of her pert little arse as she walked. But it wasn’t just her body that diverted him. She had perfected a version of the Confundus charm that wrapped around them like a blanket, causing anyone who saw them to shake their heads and walk off in the opposite direction. He was quite impressed.

“I think this is it, Draco,” she whispered as they stopped in front of a large, metal door.

He nodded.

She cast an  _ Alohomora _ , knowing it probably wouldn’t work. Several spells were tried before they finally managed to get the door open, slipping inside without a sound. The scene was startling. All the creatures pent up in their cages with only a couple wizards on duty to make sure they didn’t die before their buyers came to claim them. The selkie was way in the back, in her little tank staring forlornly at the wall. Hermione’s heart broke a little. 

Creeping around a metal crate holding something that was growling, she shot a stunner at one of the guards. Draco had fanned off in the other direction to do the same. He hit a burly fellow with a nonverbal  _ Stupefy _ and sent him flying into one of the crate, setting off some loud squawking.  _ Bugger it all _ , he thought.  _ Better make this snappy _ .

With the two of them working quickly, they had the whole lot subdued in minutes. Hermione was brilliant in tackling the other henchmen, using a combo of several powerful nonverbal spells to bowl them over. Draco could only stand and stare in awe. She could definitely be an Auror if she wanted. He just kept observing her with a dumbstruck look as she took the badge from Jenkins out of her pocket and turned it in her hand three times, alerting them that the area was secure. She really was the brightest witch of her age.

MACUSA had the building surrounded in no time, wrangling up all the suspects and apparating back to the Woolworth building with them. A whole team of Aurors came and took stock of the creatures, cataloging them and planning their release back into the wild.

Kim and Jenkins approached, smiling. “Well done, you two,” said the former.

Jenkins spoke next. “We need to debrief you back at the office, but we’ll make sure that your selkie is transitioned to a more appropriate container for the trip back to Britain.”

“Brilliant,” Hermione said as she felt her appearance morphing back to regular. She turned to Draco upon realizing what he was doing. “You didn’t want to leave it a little longer?”

“I much prefer you this way,” he stated simply, a light blush dusting his pale cheeks.

 

* * *

 

Hermione beamed as they made their way back to the hotel. They had gotten Rolf’s selkie back relatively unharmed and would be heading back with her in the morning. 

“Well, aren’t you smiley?” Draco drawled, the corners of his lips just starting to curl.

“I’m happy! We completed our mission and Rolf will be so pleased to see his selkie returned. Oh, I bet he’s been worried sick. If we weren’t heading back tomorrow, I’d owl him straight away.”

His almost-smile quickly faded. “Oh right. Bloody Rolf.”

She shot him a quizzical look. “What’s gotten into you? You know that’s the whole reason we came here.”

He huffed. “I know, Granger.”

She didn’t understand what had gotten into Draco, but he was cold the rest of the night. Hermione had hoped that since they were essentially done, they could  _ celebrate _ … but when they got back to the room, he readied himself for bed and climbed in without a word to her. The peach nightgown didn’t even work to entice him.

The Malfoy pride was hard to staunch. Draco chided himself inwardly for being so cold to Hermione, but now he knew how he felt about her, it was agony to hear her talk about Scamander with such  _ affection _ in her voice. He turned his back to her in an effort to try and sleep, hoping she wouldn’t notice if a couple tears happened to slip out and land on the pillow. 


	4. Chapter 4

The rolling hills of the Scamander estate seemed a brighter green than Hermione remembered. It’s like the land itself knew today was a happy day. She stepped up to the stone structure, Rolf running out to greet her and the tank she levitated alongside her. His willowy frame carried him swiftly over the hills, his royal blue coat trailing behind him. The selkie turned circles over and over in excitement upon seeing Rolf’s face. Luna followed at a distance, her mint green robe bellowing in the wind. Her smile was nearly as bright as Rolf’s.

“You did it, Hermione!” he exclaimed sweeping her up in a swift embrace that nearly lifted her off her feet before setting her down quickly and averting his eyes, realizing he may have overstepped. 

Hermione laughed, happy to see her friends so delighted at the return of the baby selkie. “We certainly did. I had asked Draco to accompany me, but he declined.”

Luna, finally having caught up to them was dragging her fingers through the water as the selkie played with her. “Well, please give him our sincerest thank you.”

“I will.” Hermione felt her smile falter as she thought about how curt Draco had been since they got back. He had nodded once at her when the portkey brought them back to the ministry and then vanished. She was beginning to feel like another notch in his bedpost, that once he had shagged her, he was done—but then again, it certainly hadn’t  _ felt _ like that in the moment. It had felt like something much more. It had her wondering if she was alone in her feelings.

She was brought out of her reverie when she realized Rolf had asked her a question, running his hand nervously through his curly auburn locks and looking shy as ever again. “I’m sorry… what was that?”

“Oh, I had asked if you wanted to come watch us reunite her with her mother.” He gestured at the tank where Luna was now giggling with the selkie, who had a brilliant smile on her small  face.

“I’d be delighted,” Hermione answered, letting them lead the way to the lake.

 

* * *

 

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid _ . Draco was halfway through a bottle of Ogden’s and doing a fine job of mentally berating himself for the way he handled things with Hermione. She was visibly upset the morning they got back, but he ran away like a coward. If she wanted to be with Rolf Scamander, so be it. He knew she deserved better anyway; might as well be that goody two shoes Hufflepuff obsessed with saving all the magical creatures.

Still, another voice inside, an annoyingly Gryffindorish voice taunted him,  _ You’re not even going to fight for her? _ He wasn’t used to this kind of pain—knowing there was something you wanted more than anything in the world and there wasn’t enough money in existence that could buy it. Bravery was not a Malfoy trait.

And yet.

“Ah—fuck it!” he yelled, hurling the bottle across the room where it shattered into a million pieces. He would make this right, tomorrow. Even if she didn’t feel the same way, he owed her that much.

 

* * *

 

Hermione couldn’t sleep. Crookshanks had curled himself into a fluffy, ginger ball at the foot of her bed, having decided it was more comfortable than getting tossed around every five minutes when he had tried to cuddle with her. She kept thinking about Draco’s lips on hers, his hands on her body, the way he had said her name so reverently when he pulsed inside of her.

It just didn’t make sense how he had gone from being so very affectionate to so cold. She decided to confront him about it first thing tomorrow.

As it happened, the first thing on her agenda was being called via flying memo into Cybele’s office. She had barely exited the lift when the purple paper airplane landed right in her mess of curls. Curious to see what her boss wanted, she bypassed her own office and headed straight there. 

“Hermione, welcome back.”

“Thank you, Cybele,” she answered, smoothing out her dusty rose robe as she sat.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on a job well done. And, now that this business is over—and Fletcher is serving a probation period under Auror’s watch—I thought we could discuss your next project.”

“Oh certainly. I haven’t had a chance to go through the files still on my desk, but—”

“I think it’s time to sort through that mess of werewolves’ rights that you keep bringing to me.”

Hermione was speechless. She had been trying to advocate for the werewolves practically since she started. “Are you quite sure?”

“Yes, it’s time.” Cybele wore a gracious smile as she dismissed Hermione.

She couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she walked to her own office, eager to get started on sorting through all the different werewolf files. Her smile quickly vanished as she opened the door to find a pensive Draco Malfoy sitting at her desk.

“About bloody time, Granger.”

“ _ Malfoy _ —” her tone was cautious, guarded. He expected that.

“I’ve been waiting here for nearly a half hour.”

“Sorry to inconvenience you, but I was called to my boss’s office.” She couldn’t keep the slight edge out of her voice. How dare he take that tone with her!

“Oh,” he rose from her chair and came round to the front of her desk. “We need to talk.”

“Yes, I should think so.” She tossed her things into the chair nearest to her and placed her hands on her hips. “ _ What _ has gotten into you? We had what I thought was an amazing night together and then you give me the cold shoulder again! I don’t know what to think, Draco. You’re giving me emotional whiplash.”

He looked pained. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he began, “Please, just let me explain and then if you want you’ll never have to see me—wait, did you say ‘amazing’?” He looked up at her, expression close to awe, the cool mask of indifference gone.

She nodded her head, and he grinned.

“Hermione, I know I’m not what someone like you wants or needs. You’re so bloody smart and capable and  _ gorgeous _ … and I’m just—”

“What, exactly? Handsome, talented, rich—” she moved closer to him.

“A former Death Eater! Look, just let me finish. I know you fancy Rolf Scamander, and that’s fine. I won’t try to stand in the way—”

“Draco,” she started, touching his arm.

“But I have to tell you, I’m mad for you, Hermione Granger. I barely know what to do with myself. And  _ Merlin _ , just thinking about our night together, I—”

She stopped him the only way she could think of, by yanking him towards her and surging up on her toes to kiss him. Draco let out a little yelp of surprise before responding in kind, wrapping his arms around her and deepening the kiss. His tongue was warm and smooth, tasting of tea and milk, as he sought entrance into her mouth.

Hermione moaned as his hand came down to squeeze her arse and she broke the kiss, chest heaving for air. “You really are dense, you know that?”

Draco could barely keep the dazed smile from his face. “Why’s that?”

“Rolf is a  _ friend _ . He’s helped me with a lot of these cases. Besides, he’s engaged to Luna!”

“Lovegood?” Well, that was a surprise.

“Yes! And if you had been paying any attention, you would have realized that I’m crazy about you, too.” She punctuated this with a push on his chest. “You foul, loathsome, evil little—”

He cut her off by kissing her again, and Hermione melted into him. He really was the best kisser. But she had other ideas in mind. She broke away from him again to mutter at her office door, “ _ Colloportus _ .  _ Muffliato _ .”

Draco cocked an eyebrow at her as she smirked, moving down his body to undo his pants. She carefully freed his throbbing erection, licking her lips in anticipation. She hadn’t done this often, but she wanted to show him just how much she felt for him.

“Granger,” he started, but all his witty quips flew away as she licked his shaft from base to head. “Fuck,” he cursed, weaving his fingers through her hair.

Hermione grinned before working her jaw a little and took him into her mouth. He moaned and she hummed in satisfaction, causing him to buck against her lips. She found it was rather enjoyable as she found a rhythm, bobbing her head up and down, letting the spittle that trickled out run down him a little as she used her hand on what she couldn’t fit in her mouth.

Draco groaned and cursed as she continued, hollowing her cheeks a little to take him deeper still. Then suddenly he fisted her hair tightly, mumbling, “Stop.”

She released him with a pop and looked up from her spot on the floor.  _ I’m in love with this woman _ , he thought.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Draco cupped her cheeks. “Not at all, love. I just want to come inside you.”

“Yes, please,” she responded. There was just something about him that made her feel utterly wanton. Hermione was already hiking up her rose colored robe and bending herself over the desk. “Fuck me, Draco.”

He yanked her knickers down and placed a kiss on her the cheek of her bum. “You are perfect, in every way.”

His fingers brushed through her folds, finding her already soaked. He swirled at her clit, drawing out a moan before removing his hand. He let out a little grunt, licking his fingers clean as he nudged his cock at her entrance, then shoved inside roughly.

“Ah!” she gasped, grabbing the edge of the desk for support. He stretched her so good, and she was already finding the tingles licking up her spine as he pulled back and shoved in again. Every drag of his shaft through her slick heat spurred her closer to euphoria. He felt so good inside her, and she practically mewling for him. 

“You like that, Hermione?” His words were peppered with grunts as he kept pounding her hard against the desk. She was already on the brink, but his voice as he growled in her ear heightened the sensation. “You like being bent over like a dirty girl? You take my cock so well. I’m going to fill you up so good.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she mumbled, moving one of her hands down to her clit. “So close, Draco, so—” her words were lost to a cry of pleasure as she came hard, her walls clamping down on him.

“So good. So good for me, my Hermione,” he mumbled as he fell over the edge, hips jerking erratically as he spilled inside her.

Hermione braced her hands against the wood of her desk as she felt him slide out of her. She pushed herself up and around and found herself swooped up into Draco’s arms at once. She giggled as she kissed her temple, her cheek, her nose, and finally her mouth again. “Let me take you to dinner tonight.”

Remembering she was supposed to be visiting her parents, she answered, “I can’t tonight, but how about tomorrow?” 

Draco winked, and she felt the butterflies again. The way he looked at her made her feel like everything was going to be just fine.  _ I think I might love you _ .

“Tomorrow, then. It’s a date.” He bowed slightly before he left her office.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Hermione was well into her stack of parchment on werewolves when Harry strode into her office, plopping down without invitation and kicking his feet up to rest on the edge of her desk. “Nicely done, Hermione. Who would’ve thought you and Malfoy would make such a good team?”

She chuckled.  _ You have no idea _ . “I was just as surprised as you are.”

“Still, recovering a kidnapped selkie and bringing in Mundungus Fletcher? I’ll be surprised if my supervisor doesn’t try to recruit you for the Auror division.”

“Please. It was Draco who did most of the dangerous work, anyway.”

Harry’s eyebrow went up. “Oh it’s  _ Draco  _ now, is it?” He ignored Hermione’s rapidly blushing cheeks and continued, “Be honest: you shagged him, didn’t you?” He wore a knowing smirk that she had the sudden urge to slap right off his face.

“What?! Harry James Potter, how could you even  _ insinuate _ —”

They were interrupted by a knock on her office door, followed by it opening a crack and the object of their conversation popping his head in. “Granger, we still on for dinner tonight? Oh. Hey, Potter.”

She turned to him and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, muttering, “Yes, I’ll be ready at seven.”

“Excellent.” He smiled as he shut the door behind him, leaving Harry with a smug grin on his face.

Hermione stewed for a second, staring just past Harry’s head, trying and failing to think of an excuse. Then she let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh alright,  _ fine _ . Yes, I shagged him. And now we’re dating, I guess. But I don’t want to hear a lecture from you, Harry. I am an adult, and he is a changed m—”

He silenced her by raising his palm. “I wasn’t going to yell at you, Hermione.”

“Oh, okay. You weren’t?”

“If you’ll recall, I’m the one who told you Malfoy wasn’t that bad before you left for your little trip.”

Right. She did remember that conversation now that he mentioned it. “Then why were you so curious?”

“You’re my best friend, Hermione. I can tell when something’s different. I think you two are actually a good match.”

“Yeah?” A sheepish smile inched its way across her face. She thought so, too.

“Definitely. Two of the most insufferable know-it-alls I have ever met—it was bound to happen.”

She made an affronted noise and quickly transfigured her cup of water into a snowball to throw at him. 

It hit Harry square in the face, and he scowled before casting a drying charm on himself. “Very mature.”

“You deserved it.”

“Maybe so… In all seriousness, though, you seem lighter than I’ve seen you lately. If Malfoy had anything to do with that, then I’m happy for you.” He rose from his seat across from her and started towards the door.

“Thank you, Harry,” she nearly whispered. Then a little more loudly, “So you’re really not upset?”

He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Nope. In fact, Ron owes me twenty galleons so I’m bloody chuffed.”

“Why you little—” she started, but he was out the door before she could transfigure something else to throw at him.

Despite herself, Hermione smiled and laughed, bracing herself on her desk for support as she let the ridiculousness of it all take over. She would definitely be making Draco pay for his poor timing later than evening.

 

* * *

 

And pay he did, in the form of a striptease that she used to taunt him to the very edge. She started with the peach nightgown he’d been so fond of, but found the raciest lingerie in a nice cream color to wear underneath. Draco was nearly begging by the time she let him touch her and was almost reverent in the way he whispered her name as he slid inside her. Crookshanks dozed in the corner chair while they undulated beneath the sheets, gasps and moans filling her small bedroom. Just as Hermione was about to come, he laced their fingers together and looked deep into her eyes. 

Draco knew then as he filled her up, her nails digging into his back that this was the only woman he ever wanted to have sex with for the rest of his life. There was no going back now. He kept his revelations to himself, though, not wanting to scare her off. She’d probably want to make lists and think through every eventual outcome. But that’s what he loved about her.

So it was in the bleary early hours of the morning, as the sun shone through the slats of her blinds, that he wrapped his arms more tightly around her and whispered, “I love you, Hermione Granger.” After all, her breathing was even and she was certainly asleep.

It was to his utter surprise that she sighed, stroked his arm and murmured back, “I love you, too, Draco Malfoy.”

Suddenly, he felt like drafting a thank you note to the Wizengamot for his sentence. Turns out being an Auror was the best thing that could’ve happened.


End file.
